


Meena x Hannah Crack Fic

by VirtualVampire



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Abuse, Action, Blood Drinking, Character Death, Cutting, Dream Sex, F/F, F/M, Fear, Implied Demon Sex, Implied Sexual Content, Love, Oral Sex, Other, Suspense, Yuri, minor comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 12:52:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2429510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VirtualVampire/pseuds/VirtualVampire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meena and her husband Harold, have survived their dangerous encounter with Lau and Ran Mao, allies of the Earl of Phantomhive.  Having been called away from London on business Meena and her dearest are now guests to Earl Trancy.   Everything seems well enough until Mrs. West encounters strange happenings within the manor.  Fortunately a maidservant known as Hannah comforts her but the kind woman holds a secret of her own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Business Calls

**Author's Note:**

> Setting and time: Takes place right after the Curry Contest arc, before Ciel and his butler became engrossed with the Earl of Trancy.  
> Pairing: Meena x Hannah  
> Status: Completed
> 
> This is also posted on my wordpress  
> Elleyis.wordpress.com

Meena quietly stared out the window of the carriage bustling through the crowded streets of London. A few more strides and soon they would find themselves on country road. Her husband, Harold, lay sleeping in her lap. He was rather exhausted from the events of the previous weeks. The man was constantly weary. First the loss of the curry contest, then a run in with assassins, and finally the nightmares of that terrifying encounter that plagued him ever since.

It was amazing how they managed to survive the ordeal. Had it not been for some local bobbies enjoying their off time at the Curry festival that woman with the massive clubs would have surely cut their lives short. Meena managed to come out unscathed but her husband had taken several blows. Underneath his fine garments were layers of bandages tightly woven around his rib cage. He sustained two cracked ribs but thankfully there was no internal bleeding. However the assailants escaped and were still at large.

Harold wanted to have Ciel Phantomhive prosecuted but her husband couldn’t outright accused the Earl of conspiring to kill him. There was no solid connection to him other than the word of the attackers themselves after all. Going to the Yard would have no doubt been a mistake too, least he have his wrong doings exposed or worst yet incur the Queen’s wrath for having her dog thrown in jail.

Still they had their lives. Meena gently rubbed his blond locks in silence while thanking the goddess Lakshmi for their uncanny luck. Now it seemed the goddess was bringing them another blessing. Even injured as he was he was still a businessman and a trader, and now business was taking them to the outskirts of England.

The exotic lady sighed as her delicate gold ohrinnges dangled about her ears. The news of who his customer was made her ever anxious and nervous. For it seemed the Queen’s other hidden hand had an interest in Harold Trading’s newest acquisition, New Moon Drop Tea.

The cityscape slowly turned into quiet meadows and grassland. ‘I rather not deal with this,’ she thought to herself still looking outside the window.

She wanted to escape her lowly fate as a servant so she married Mr. West, but instead of finding happiness in the arms of wealth another loathsome beast reared its head. Simply put the rich had crooked dealings. The swarthy beauty quickly learned that anyone with power only had it because they lied, stole from others, or forced their hand. Even though these methods went against her humble upbringing she would have to learn them if she was ever to achieve her ambitions.

Her husband groaned in his sleep. ‘Another nightmare,’ Meena frowned and took out a small cloth to wipe the growing sweat from his brow.


	2. An Awkward Introduction

“Welcome Sir West to the estate of Trancy.” A tall bespectacled man greeted them as they stepped away from the carriage. He made stately bow. “I am Claude Faustus head butler to the Earl.” 

“I thank you for your Lord’s hospitality,” her husband replied. Meena was awe struck. The outer court of the mansion was gigantic and the manor itself was the size of a palace. The dazzling stone fountains in front of the home glistened with ripples of crystal clear water and the smell of roses in full bloom wafted in her nose. Everything about the place registered as prestige and high class to her. Outwardly the lady gaped, but inwardly a shady smile of greed and cunning had formed. ‘Woah, this place must be loaded!’ 

“This is my darling wife Meena West,” the confident man added.

“Huh?” she awkwardly blurted out when she heard her name. She had been too preoccupied with the surveying splendor and trying to estimate the value of the estate to take notice of the other party. ”Yes Im…,” the dark haired woman stuttered when she finally beheld the servant. A rosy blush suddenly formed on her cheeks. The butler was handsome and suave. In fact he seemed to radiate an aura of allure and command. His hair was wind swept yet finely groomed and his eyes were the same color as her previous master, Prince Soma; but something about them seemed dangerous. ‘Surely a man with his presence couldn’t be a lowly butler?’

“Dearest?” Harold said puzzled at his wife’s sudden speechlessness.

“Meena West! That is who I am, yes,” she stated sounding like a surprised solider answering her platoon leader’s command. A bit of nervous laughter accompanied her smile but having felt like a complete moron. The tall servant bowed again, “Welcome Madame West.” To which she humbly nodded.

“The Earl will see you inside, if you would please follow me,” he gestured to the door. A small troupe of pages with identical faces were standing next to him. They made a courteous bow and so took the carriage around back.

A cold shiver ran across Meena’s back as she followed the butler. With Claude leading the way the business man and his foreign wife entered the Trancy Estate.


	3. Tea for Two Timers

Her gray eyes practically sparkled with gold. Stunning murals, golden trimming, extravagant chandlers, every inch of the Earl’s abode gleamed with luxury.

‘To think this is only the entry hall.’ Meena’s social status meter gushed.

The butler placed Harold’s coat in the coat check room and led the couple to the lounge. On the way they passed through a long corridor with a beautiful archway chiseled from solid stone. The stunning ballroom and massive library were visible from hallway as well. When they reached the end Claude stopped to open the mahogany double doors revealing an elegant yet welcoming room.

Meena could hardly believe her eyes. Pristine and perfect, nothing was lacking in the estate. Many kings in Indian did not have this much wealth.

‘Jackpot!’ She silently chimed. The insatiable woman’s greedy brain began to scheme. Perhaps she could seduce the Earl and become his wife she thought. The possibility of being married to a man with that much influence and wealth made her giddy with delight.

“Please be seated,” Claude’s smooth and bass voice interrupted her day dreaming. Meena’s husband kindly led his fantasizing wife to a comfy sofa and soon their rears felt the welcoming embrace of goose downing cushions.

“When I received the letter from your master inquiring of our goods I was pleasantly surprised,” Harold spoke making small talk with the butler. “Your company is well known throughout the country,” Claude replied,” Darjeeling, Nilgiri, Assam many of the finest teas in London are imported by your business. Naturally the Earl of Trancy would have an interest in such commodities.”

“Please I am only a businessman, Lord Trancy honors me with his consideration,” Mr. West grinned.

“I shall inform my master of your presence.” With two claps of his gloved hands a lovely lady with pale lavender hair and slightly browned skin entered the room. She held a golden tea platter between her palms. Gracefully treading past the servant she laid the silverware down and began to pour two cups of Darjeeling white tea. “Hannah shall see to you for the time being. If you have need of anything please do not hesitate to ask,” with that he nodded his head and left the room.

A healthy blush rose on both husband’s and wife’s face. The woman standing before them was gorgeous. An air of peace mixed with the dusky allure of her skin and her misty eyes soaked in indigo mesmerized them. Meena inwardly frowned. If the beautiful maid was any indication then surely the Earl of Trancy’s wife would be breathtaking. At that moment Mrs. West felt like nothing more than a plain peasant. 

Husband and wife accepted the drinks offered to them. The aroma was light and delicate and somehow the scent accentuated the maid’s countenance. Meena was the first to speak. “I must thank your master and his wife for their gracious hospitality,” the ordinary lady chirped.

“Forgive me Madame, but our master is not married,” Hannah answered. With this news Meena became as happy as a lark. The Earl was not taken, so that meant there was a chance to put her charm into action and elevate herself even higher on the wealth and social ladder. ‘Surely the goddess of wealth must be smiling upon me!’

The ambitious woman continued to chat with Hannah in order to hide the true intent of questions. “I noticed the smell of roses and jasmine outside. Tell me do you tend the garden?” Hannah smiled, “Why yes Madame, there are over 12 acres of land solely used for said purpose. If you should like a tour I would be glad to show you.” “12 acres, amazing! ” replied Meena feigning any real interest.

“My lady, I’ve heard the Trancy household has numerous holdings in England as well France and Spain. Your master must be busy year round?,“ Harold inquired wanting to deduct the nature of his client.

“My Lord does not have many guests this time of year and I am not privy to such matters of title and estate,” she responded.

‘Dodging the question, interesting. Surely she is more than just looks,’ the sly man gleaned. Harold West-Jebb was a shrewd man and trade was his game. He could read a person like a book and when it came to making money he understood that most servants had quality information regarding their bosses. “Ah. Then I shall refrain from asking such questions. Tell me has the Earl been to London lately?”

The conversation continued for the better part of fifteen minutes before the doors opened again and the dark servant returned. “Presenting his grace the Earl of Trancy, Alois Trancy.”

Meena and her gentleman stood. The swarthy woman expected to find herself in the company of a dashing and debonair aristocrat but soon a girl wearing brown leather boots, shorts, and a purple overcoat entered the lounge.

“Welcome to my home,” Alois warmly said with an innocent smile on his lips. Meena’s head slightly cocked. ‘You have to be kidding me, this girl is an Earl?’

“Forgive me for the delay but I did not expect you here so soon.”

The shady woman looked him over quite confused. There was no mistaking the sound of his voice. ‘That’s a boy!’ Meena’s head fell to a 45 degree angle. Her hopes were instantly dashed away. There was no way she could seduce a kid. Introductions were made none the less.

“Is there something wrong?” the Earl looked at her with some concerned. The woman had blanched to a rather dull color from the loss of hope and interest in the Earl.

“My dear are you not feeling well?” Harold quizzically looked on from her side. “No, Im…Im just tired from the trip.” Meena half heartily spoke.

“Aye yes. It does take a week’s time to get here from London. I was rather surprised to see you in no more than five days,” Alois commented.

“The journey has been rather long,” she spouted. ‘Not to mention how disappointed I am right now’.

“Say no more,” Alois simply smiled, “Hannah, show Mrs. West to her room. Mr. West and I shall conduct business in the meantime.”

“Yes Lord,” Hannah bowed and then escorted Meena to the upstairs guest rooms.


	4. The Rise and Fall of Her Royal Highness

The guest room was lavish. The walls were covered in a fashionable fabric matching perfectly with the ornate decorum of the room. A balcony overlooking the expansive garden was lined with flower arrangements of all sorts. A small chair and table had been placed for tea too.

“The boudoir is to your left and the washroom is within,” the maid announced as she pointed in the general direction. ‘My own boudoir!’ Meena was practically ecstatic from hearing such a fancy term, though she didn’t rightly know what a boudoir was, still her merriment did not wane.

Hannah proceeded to open a dresser and pulled out several pieces of fine jewelry. The shifty lady’s eyes practically grew twice their size. Necklaces, earrings, chokers, bracelets, and rings with every kind of precious stone imaginable were presented. Hannah set them all neatly atop the dresser. She then went to the closet wherein she pulled out several articles of clothing and set them on the king size bed.

“Your luggage will be brought up soon and supper will be ready within the hour. In the meantime please refresh yourself. I hope you shall find these to your liking.” Hannah turned. “Madame, what troubles you?” Meena was almost in tears. Even with her husband’s capital they could never have afforded such marvelous possessions.

“Re..Really, I can wear these?” the lady sniffled. Hannah smiled at the wide eyed woman who at that moment looked like a little child opening presents on Christmas day. “Off course. It is my duty to offer you the utmost hospitality Mrs. Meena. My master wishes for your husband to become a most faithful business partner. Consider them a small token of the Earl’s appreciation.”

Meena’s couldn’t stop the tears of joy. The kindly maid spoke to her again a bit concerned. “If you would prefer your own clothing, I will gladly put these away and have them brought right now.

“No, no, no, no!” the swarthy woman blurted out, “It’s just, I’ve never seen so many beautiful thing like this before. I…I” Hannah almost giggled, never before had she seen a grown woman act as such. It was…cute.

“Well then, I shall be off. If you have need of me please ring the call bell.” With that Hannah bowed and took her leave.

Meena wasted no time trying on every piece of jewelry and each elegant dress then went to prancing around the chamber pretending to be the Queen of England. “Make way for her Majesty the Queen! All hail her Imperial Majesty the Empress of India!” She was so bemused with herself she did not hear the servants knock at the door. When no answer came the triplets entered. Thompson, Timber, and Canterbury brought in the luggage as Meena stood atop the chair on the balcony giving her invisible court her royal edicts. “Prince Soma you shall from hence forth be my cook. You shall relinquish all titles, lands, and treasure to your Empress. Your palace and servants will serve only me.”

The pages watched in confusion as the dark hair woman made a rather pretentious laugh. As they were getting ready to leave the would be queen instantly spun around thinking that Harold entered the room.

“Honey!! How do I look dearest, huh?!” but was greeted with 3 pair of blood red eyes. She yelped in surprise. “Waaaaahhhhh!!,” and fell off her throne with a loud crash.

~*~

A humbled Meena sat beside her husband enjoying a meal fit for royalty. “How does your ankle feel darling?” Harold spoke trying to cheer his lady up. Meena ignored him and continued to take a small bite of the mango chutney.

“Slipping in the tub is a rather common accident my dear. You needn’t feel any shame.“ But she did, for the truth was far too embarrassing to tell and the triplets were silent as ever so a lie sufficed. The woman sighed. Even the shine of golden utensils failed to brighten her gloomy mood.

“Im glad my maid could be of assistance.” Alois cheerfully smiled as Claude served him another dish. “Though I think it’s rather clumsy and amusing to fall out of a tub,” he said in an innocent yet mocking tone. Harold laughed.

‘Why you little brat!’ Meena’s eye brow twitched and her lips pouted. Luckily Hannah heard the fall and was quick to ice and bandage her sprained ankle. “Well my dear look it this way, the Earl has graciously offered to let us stay until you are fully healed.”

“Yes please stay, it’s not often my guests are as amusing as you,” Alois chirped. Meena made a visible frown/scowl and Harold gracefully laughed into his napkin.


	5. Servants are Strange

Meena sat on the balcony enjoying a cup of mint tea. The smell of gardenias and roses wafting through the afternoon air helped to soothe her aggravated nerves. Her husband had gone riding with Trancy for the day and leaving her to herself. Letting out a small sigh the moody woman took another sip of her drink. If it wasn’t business matters that kept her husband away it was certainly that brat.

Billiards, lawn tennis, golf, hunting for game, Alois Trancy seemed more concerned with having fun than making money. ‘Not like he’d ever had to worry about going broke,’ she thought. Still it seemed like the Earl hadn’t had guests over in a long time judging by the way he took up most, if not all of Harold’s time.

She grumbled. Things weren’t adding up. It had only been a week since their arrival but the mansion and its inhabitants were odd.

The triplets were strange. They were always whispering to one another yet never spoke a single word to anybody. ‘Maybe they’re making fun of me falling.’ Meena wondered as she imagined the trio mimicking her Queen Victoria act and laughing it up in secret. “Jerks!,” she grit her teeth rather annoyed at her own groundless accusation.

Though what was really strange about them was the fact she never seemed to notice them. Like the time when she stumbled into an expensive looking vase and shattered it to pieces. The guilty party quickly turned around intent on finding a broom to clear up the mess before anyone happened upon the crime.

One of the servants swept the remnants up while the other two replaced the relic with a new one all before she could take five steps. A gust of wind passing along her cheek made her turn around to check the scene once more and there it was, a vase that was perfectly intact. The baffled woman thought it was an illusion and tried to touch it to make sure she wasn’t seeing things, but when she did the vase started to wobble. Luckily Timber held out his hand to steady it, and that’s when the Meena finally saw all three of them cleaning the corridor.

“How did you, when did you? I… ” The look their faces was blank. Meena simply scurried off.

Or the other time when she got hungry and decided to go to the pantry on her own. Sure enough she found the place. Looking through a few cabinets she managed to discover and down half a bottle of Chardonnay from the Strathbogie Range while singing old songs from her homeland. Joyous and drunk with wine she made a loud unseemly burp and sneezed, then she put the bottle to her mouth to take another swig. Meena made an instant spit take when Thompson handed her a napkin out of nowhere, dropped the bottle that Timber swiftly caught, and coughed harshly as Canterbury gently patted her on the back.

“How long have you been here?!” Meena choked out. One of the boys simply pointed to the clock. Turns out they were there re-stacking supplies and making preparations for tomorrow’s meals the whole time, but she hadn’t seen or heard any off them. Like they weren’t even there at all.

“Hollow,” she said aloud then she sipped her tea again.

The butler was even stranger. In fact every time he got near her she could swear the spot where her bindi was throbbed with pain and this happened quite often. After the first few days of complete bed rest her sprained ankle was good enough to walk on. Going down the stairs on her own was no problem despite constant dull throb. She just had to hold on to the handrail, but whenever she wanted to get back upstairs to her room the sheer number of steps thwarted her. Usually Harold or Hannah would assist her, if they were not present then one of the Triplets. But there were times when everyone else was busy and Claude took it upon himself to carry to her up the long stairwell.

It was kind of romantic almost scandalous in a way, like in one of those heated novellas she would occasionally read to grow familiar with hobbies of English women. A dashing butler whisking a young woman off to her bedroom while her husband was away was something most ladies only dreamed about. However the second Claude lifted her up cold shivers ran through her body and the area beneath her bindi felt like it was on fire. She would almost jump out of his arms the moment they reached the final step.

Meena even swore she caught him whispering to a spider. She was in the library searching for a book at the time. The tall butler entered the room and was putting away several massive tomes. ‘How can he lift all those in one hand?’ she marvelled as she looked from behind a book case. Soon a brown tarantula appeared, crawled onto his legging, up to his shoulder, and down his arm to a gloved hand. Claude curled his finger and gently pet the hairy creature before setting it on the self.

Something else about him bugged her as well. His expression, it never changed. It was always calm and downright emotionless. ‘A teapot would have more personality than him!’ A picture of a teapot wearing a ribbon and tuxedo puffing out little clouds of steam popped up in her mind. The woman smiled at her funny daydream but then the tea pot vanished and image of an image Claude’s golden eyes entered into her head.

“Deadly.” She mouthed.

By far the strangest of all was the Earl. Aside from his snide remarks giving her the powerful urge to shove her heel into his pompous posterior and then thoroughly spank him, the boy had real problems. What she witnessed just a few days ago seem more like nightmare than reality.


	6. Does The Devil?

Getting lost in the manner the wayward woman discovered a barely furnished room. The walls were dyed in red and gold. Nothing had been there other than a large square mark upon the wall where a portrait would have hung and a tattered old bed with sheets covered in dust. A beautiful red robe that shimmered like water was lying in the middle of bed. Meena placed a finger upon it, the fabric felt like a river to her index pad. “Why would this be here?”

When she was about to pick the discarded cloth up the faint sound of footsteps falling outside the door gave her a start. Feeling like a trespasser she rushed to the closet as fast as her feet would take her and closed the door.

Veiled in darkness she heard a long scraping noise along the walls. The scraping grew louder and louder with each moment. Sometimes she could hear fabric tearing as well. Meena held her breath; the scraping sound was careening across the closet wall now. Her heart started beating faster until the sound suddenly stopped. Something metallic hit the floor and made a loud echo throughout room. The women put a hand over mouth to silence the sound of her breath. So she allowed oxygen back in her lungs by breathing through her nose.

“Aaaaarrrggghhhhh!,” a small but forceful voice rang out. Then the terrible sound of metal struck the walls. Soon another shout came, “Auuuughhhhh!” More slashing could be heard. The terrified woman began to quiver with fear. “Uuughaaaah,” this time there was no scraping but rather the sound of wood cracking. Suddenly Meena found herself face to face with the tip of a sword. The blade had come within several inches of where her throat. She almost screamed but held in her fear.

Mercifully the sword dislodged and found another target to strike. When the hidden spy found the courage to look she carefully peered through the small crack in the closet door. Alois Trancy was angrily slashing at the chamber walls, ramming the sword into any surface he could find.

“Bastard! Pig! Monster! Swine! Damn you!” All manner of foul words spilled from his lips. The chaos went on for some time until he finally dropped the sword and fell to his hands and knees from exhaustion. His breathing was heavy and his hair soaked with sweat. Alois then started laughing. It was low at first then it rose to a hysterical pitch.

She wanted cover her ears but was afraid to move her arms for fear he might hear her. So Meena remained motionless and silent. There was no telling what a boy in his state would do if he found out she was hiding inside. The tormented laughing soon faded and the Earl begun banging his hand against floor. Tears came unbidden from his eyes and a low groan of agony followed. His small chest violently convulse when he fell flat on the floor and began to sob distraught with grief. “Help… Help me…Luka,” the boy passionately cried. “Luka.”

A long expanse of time passed before his tears finally dried. The lad stood, picked his weapon up again, and made his way to the bed. Laying the sword upon it he began to undress himself. Meena closed her eyes in confusion. She was scared did not wish to see the Earl nude.

“Claude!” he shouted. Moments later the sound of clicking came. Meena recognized it as the sound of the butler’s heels. A door opened and was soon shut. When she opened her eyes again Alois was sitting on the edge of the bed dressed in nothing but the red robe. His servant was standing before him. The fearful woman had a clear view of both parties.

“Your Highness,” the butler said in a composed and low tone while looking at his ward. Alois looked up at the man standing above. A devilish yet cruel look was in his turquoise eyes… He playfully ran the tip of a dagger across Claude’s suit, then neck, and finally his cheek. Alois smiled and made a small flesh wound across the man’s flawless skin. A crimson rivulet of liquid slowly seeped on to the blade.

The butler was unmoved and did not protest his master’s whims. “Claude, kneel,” Alois commanded.

“Yes your Highness,” and the butler complied. The Earl watched with delight as the man took a knee. Again the tip of the blade was dangled around his face. First dancing through his licorice tresses and then sliding across his ear until it rested along his lower lip. Alois proceeded to make a small gash into the plump flesh. Claude did not flinch.

The boy grew bolder as he watched the blade stain with blood. Soon the dagger was dancing along the edges of the butler’s throat. “Claude,” the Earl said in a sickeningly sweet voice, “does it make you angry?”

“No,” was the obedient servant’s only reply. To which he was rewarded with a long incision across his larynx. The wound was not deep and but it did bleed. Alois removed dagger from Claude’s neck and brought the sharp metal to his own mouth. He slowly licked the edge of blade.

Meena’s stomach began to turn at the sight. ‘What’s happening? Is he possessed?’ Now she knew for sure she did not belong here and what see had seen was not meant for anyone’s eyes. The Earl was a sadist and would probably kill if he discovered her. Her heart began to race.

A good amount of blood was still on the dagger before the pleased Earl set it upon himself and thusly slit his own forearm lengthwise from elbow to palm. He grit his teeth as small tears welled up from pain, but finished the task in one precise sweep. Breathing rather harshly, he looked to his butler and spoke in a sultry yet teasing tone. “Claude, the smell. Does it make you hungry?” Before Claude could answer Alois slipped his dagger’s tip underneath the black ribbon adorning the butler’s neck. He motioned for his servant to come closer by tugging the silk and so Claude did has he was bade.

The Earl gracefully twirled his slender fingers though dark thick locks while allowing the scent of his blood to tease the butler’s nostrils. When he had his fun of vexing Claude he lend over to his ear and slowly whispered something the woman in the closet could not hear. “Does the Devil,” he paused for a moment and blew warm air across the bare ear, “want to lick a human?” A small wet tongue slid along the sleek curve of Claude’s ear. He did not move nor did his expression change, but his eyes slightly narrowed. “….Yes, your Highness.”

A sly smirk crossed the blond’s lips. Alois lent back and presented the marred flesh to the patient butler. “Then, taste.” Claude did not hesitate. He dutifully took hold of the Alois’ wrist and cupped the boy’s elbow in the other hand. Bending the arm he brought it near the side of his face, and felt the warmth of his master limb against his cheek. The unnaturally alluring servant locked eyes with his Lord’s. A long thick tongue emerged between silken lips slithered up the inside of Alois’ arm capturing the succulent prize.

Meena did not see Claude’s golden eyes turn hot red for she had shut her own from the dust inside her hiding place irritating them. “Acho!,” a small yet audible sneeze escaped her nose. Meena’s heart instantly caught in her throat.

“Huh?” The Earl turned his head at the muffled squeak. Claude gracefully rose and made his way toward the closet.

‘No!’ The woman’s pupils narrowed to pin points in fear, her heart beat like a drum in her ears, and her body shook uncontrollably. The steady rhythm of the man’s heels drove her into a mild shock.

Click, she couldn’t move. Clack, she couldn’t breathe. Each step grew louder and louder signaling her very demise. The woman’s eyes teared as she silently prayed to every diety she had ever known. 

‘Save me!’ Click, ‘Krishna’, clack, ‘Ganesha’, click, ‘Hunuman’,clack, ‘Indra’, click, ‘Kali!’ 

The footsteps ended and Claude reached for the handle.

Miraculously a small mouse scurried out of the closet and past the butler’s shoes. Claude turned his head as it ran around him to the center of the room. Its beady black eyes looked up at Alois perched on the bed. The rodent twitched its tiny nose then alternated between rubbing its paws and cleaning its whiskers. Alois started to giggle with laughter. “Looks like you’re no match for the ‘dangerous mouse’ Claude.” The boy laughed so hard he threw himself back into the bed and wrapped his arms around his belly.

The little mammal made one last glance around the room before it quickly ran underneath the exit. Claude merely narrowed his eyes and returned his attention to the closet.

‘Oh no!’ Meena cried silently at her impending death. All that was left was the sound of the door creaking as it opened. Meena cowered and crossed her arms over herself for protection.

“What are you doing in here you tart?!” Alois’ words were fire. Meena was shaking too badly to answer. Her blood was running cold and her limbs ached from being still for too long. Suddenly a humble voice interjected. “Forgive me my Lord, I did not know you were here.” It was the maid! It took the frighten woman a while to register the fact that she was still covered in darkness. It was only the door to the room which had opened.

Meena’s vision was cut off from crouching so all she could do was listen to the sounds that followed. Small footsteps, the maid suddenly gasping, something crashing to the floor, and the dreadful noises of a woman being assaulted. “….Tramp! ….Whore! …Bitch!” In between the kicking and yelling Meena heard Hannah’s gasping. “Forgive…ugh…me..ugh…Lord.”

This went on for what seemed like ages. Then a heavy thud came. “Your Highness.”

All was silent save for the butler’s heel clicking against the floor. Alois Trancy’s small frame had collapsed. The brutal child fainted, partially from his exertions against Hannah and the rest from the loss of blood. Claude lifted the limp body up and simply left the room, leaving Annafellow’s to herself.

Meena was still too scared to move and when the closet door finally opened she let out a shrill cry.

“Sshh, you are safe.”

Meena dared to look. Two deep indigo spheres were kindly staring back at her. Her gray eyes welled up with tears of relief. Not knowing what else to do she simply wrapped her arms around Hannah and lost consciousness.

~*~  
A cool breeze caressed her skin, flowers of blue and purple bloomed everywhere. Somewhere in the distance was singing. The gentle lilting tune danced in her ears and wonderful feeling of peace surrounded her. 

“Huna blentyn ar fy mynwes  
Clyd a chynnes ydyw hon;  
Breichiau mam sy’n dynn amdanat,  
Cariad mam sy dan fy mron;”

A woman and a small boy with red hair sat in the field starring up at the clear sky. Meena felt like a ghost as she glided near the two but everything faded to white before she could reach them. Finding herself in bed Meena rubbed the tears from her sore eyes. She didn’t recall how she got back in her room, just the smell of flowers and the lingering tune in her head.

The next day she refused to leave the chamber unless her husband was with her but Harold wanted to go horseback riding with the Earl. Meena didn’t want to be anywhere near the psychotic noble. Harold couldn’t understand why his wife was so anxious so he gave her kiss and set out to meet the lad.

Meena jumped out of bed and pushed a heavy dresser with a vanity mirror against the door to be on safe side. Her husband had ordered breakfast which the triplets promptly brought in whilst still in her sleep, so food and drink were not lacking.

The poor lady finished her tea and watched longingly for her husband’s return. But her thoughts wandered off and a warm blush rose on her face. She was thinking of the kind maid who saved her from a terrible nightmare. The only thing she could see now were indigo soaked orbs resonating one simple word in silent tones.

“Sadness.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im going to make it perfectly clear. Alois and Claude are not engaged in sexual activities. Alois enjoys teasing Claude and acts this way because of the rape he endured. He's trying to use his ill notions of sexuality as a game for enjoyment. Toying with the Devil can be dangerous though. Anyway Claude is not interested in sex with Alois and finds Alois' actions to be childish, thus the momentary pause and furling of eyebrows. However the taste of blood is quite pleasing to his appetite, seeing as the blood is one sort of essences of the soul. I'm not your keeper so if you want to insert your own notions about the meaning of this scene go ahead. I, however, really dont care for any Alois x Claude. Alois is not a slut, he's the victim and product of sexual abuse! This type of trauma at such a young age can warp the mind and even change brain chemistry in a person. Anyway if Alois ever ordered Claude to have sex with him, my version of Claude would ignore it.


	7. A Tale of Resolve

The end of the day drew near and still there was no sign of the hunting party that left during morning. The impatient woman wanted to check down stairs and to see if Harold had arrived via different route, but she wasn’t going to chance running into anyone else within the walls of the manor.

Earlier in the day she dozed off feeling secure by presence of dresser blocking the entrance. Meena jumped from her sleep when a knock came at the door. At first she thought it was Harold, but why would her husband need to knock. He had a key to the room. Looking at the clock she put two and two together. It was lunch time and a servant must of come to inform her. Meena looked in the direction of door. No way was she going to answer let alone open it, but the knock came again.

Looking around the steadfast lady saw the parchment paper on her husband’s desk. Soon a small piece of paper slid under the door. It read: “Not hungry, stomach ache.” The paper was returned in the same manner. Meena knelt down too retrieve it. On the opposite side of her note was a picture drawn in crayon. Three servants bowed to what looked to be a crudely drawn picture of her as the Queen falling off the throne. A vein of anger popped up on the woman’s forehead. ‘You!!’ She tore the note to shreds leaving the pieces on the carpeted floor and returned the balcony.

There was little to do during her self-imposed confinement. She could have tried on the dresses and jewelry again but looking at the once marvelous tokens only made her feel worse. Her writing skills in English were rather weak so she didn’t bother to touch ink quill on Harold’s desk after the triplets left. She would have taken a book from the library but was too disturbed by the butler to take any literature with her and had not visited there since. For a moment the lovely lady felt like a prisoner, a bird within a cage. 

‘Why?’ Being surrounded by all the splendor and abundance she had only dreamed about as child should have made her feel happy. For several generations the women in her family were maidservants to the Kardar’s. The caste into which she was born would never have allowed her to be anything more than a that. 

A servant for him. Thinking of Prince Soma and his arrogance her chest grew hot with anger. When the prince was a child he once spilled curry upon his father’s Persian rug. It was a most precious gift from the Shah of Iran. The King was angered but he was ever kind and loving toward his son. So he simply had Soma sent away to play. Shortly after the offence occurred Meena watched as her mother was cruelly whipped for Soma’s actions. It was the custom of her country. A prince was never to be harmed so a servant would be disciplined in place of Soma’s punishments. Yet when Soma found her England all he did was smile at her beg her to come back home. 

Meena slammed her fist down into the table, tears of anger and sorrow welled in her eyes. What did aristocracy know of suffering?! Having your whole life determined for you by a system made solely to please their desires, as if you were nothing more than a tool to be discarded. “I swear…I swear I will do whatever it takes to…” her words trailed off. In the distance the hunting party could be seen. The swarthy woman cleared her eyes, delighted to see her husband safe and proudly seated upon a trotting white stallion. The Earl and his butler rode alongside him too. All three were decked in riding gear. 

When they reached the outer courtyard Hannah stood with the rest of the servants. A prompt bow was given as the hunters dismounted. The trio of pages took the small game and led the horses to the stalls. The maid had already set up a small table for tea and snacks and stood patiently. Meena’s husband was well enough; Harold busied himself conversing with Earl as his butler left to change his attire. 

Latter the first salmon colored cloud of dusk appeared and so Harold bid the Earl a pleasant evening. Meena breathed a sigh of relief. “Finally!” she spouted, gladden by the prospect of being able be in his company, but her husband decided to enjoy a game of billiards and fine brandy before seeing to his wife upstairs. The expectant woman was unaware of this. In the meantime Meena would simply see what the Earl was up to. What she saw next made her furious.

The butler returned to his evil little ward carrying something in his hand. They were still a distance away so Meena couldn’t make out what was in his arms. The Earl was thrilled though for he quickly left his seat and grabbed the contraption. Just yonder was an apple tree brimming with white flowers. Alois Trancy left tea table and made target practice of it with a crossbow. 

Minutes past and everything seemed harmless. Every now and then an arrow would find its mark and the fruit would fall from the tree. That is until Alois made his maid retrieve the fallen apples. Going to her knees Hannah diligently scooped them into her apron. An arrow quickly whizzed by her head and buried itself in the tree trunk. Meena gasped.

The maid shook a bit and continued to pick up the fruit. A second arrow flew past Hannah’s sleeve and tore the fabric causing her to hesitate in her work. Another one slightly grazed her ear and the lady flinched dropping whatever she had gathered.

Meena could barely believe her eyes. Why was he attacking her? ‘Monster!’ Sure enough the little hellion zealously launched bolts at his maidservant until she had gathered all of the fruit and stood. Meena silently prayed all while for the woman’s safety. She didn’t know if it was a miracle, luck, or poor aim that kept the arrows from fatally striking its target. 

The Earl said something to his butler. Walking over to Hannah, Claude took an apple from her apron then placed the green fruit atop her head. He returned to his master’s side. 

When Alois made ready for a final shot, Meena yelled out in the strongest voice her lungs could muster. “STOP!!!!!” The voice echoed across the manor but it was still too far away to heard by Alois Trancy.

Meena’s plea was answered. The butler placed his hand upon the crossbow caught the arrow as it was released. Alois sneered at his servant’s sudden brazen action and soundly slapped him across his face. Claude took the blow and said something in reply after adjusting his glasses. The blond was still angry though; upset at his game having been interrupted. 

He dropped his weapon and pointed a finger at Claude reprimanding him. When he was done the boy pointed to his maidservant. Claude bowed and took up the crossbow. He set the arrow and drew the string back until it was in the catch. With one arm he lifted the contraption and fired at Hannah. 

The apple split in half as the arrow soundlessly passed through it and into the tree. Alois scoffed, turned on his heels and began making slow strides back to the mansion. His butler followed, leaving Hannah to herself beneath the blooming apple tree. 

‘That tears it!’ The woman could take no more of it; Meena resolved to keep Hannah safe at her side as long as she was here.


	8. The Company We Keep

Evening had fallen and Harold was happily embracing his wife in bed. The dapper fellow was feeling optimistic after taking down a large deer in the woods. Business was going swimmingly with his newest and most valuable client too.

He cheerfully sighed as a river of silky black hair fell across his strong and bare shoulder. Meena was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. Her skin was color of chocolate and he had never seen such enchanting eyes before. She was a phenomenal cook, very clever, and her smile made the world around him seem much brighter.

Lately her smile was nowhere to be found. ‘Perhaps she was still fearful of The Earl of Phantomhive,’ he thought.

“Dear, why was the door blocked?” Harold asked as he wrapped his muscular arms around his wife smooth lower back. “Oh,” she replied with her arms locked over his shoulders, “I saw a mouse and was frightened.”

“Really?,” he chuckled then placed a kiss upon on her upon neck. “Quite a lot of fuss to make over a mere rodent my dear.” Staring lovingly into her soft eyes he began to stroke the supple plane of her back. The girl buried her head into his the crook of his neck enjoying the tender affection.

“Dearest, I have a proposal,” the exotic woman cooed.

“And what would that be?,” he said in rather excited. Perhaps his darling was up for something a bit more athletic between the sheets now that her ankle was feeling better. The Kama Sutra was a most marvelous book indeed, had she not insisted on him procuring a copy before they left India he would have certainly regretted his lack of good judgement.

The exotic beauty pulled away from his embrace revealing a sly and tempting expression. “Oh, I know that look my dear, you are planning something aren’t you?” his voice dipped into a husky tone.

“The maid, Hannah. I would like her company,” the sultry woman grinned.

Harold’s face turned beet red, he was not expecting his wife to proposition him with a ménage à trois. The man detested the Victorian normalcy of a woman forgoing her own sexual desire for the concept of purity and virtue. It was partly why he couldn’t stand the idea of being wed to a simple English lady. So when he took Meena as his bride his family was shocked. English women were oh so delicate and tame, most were ignorant of the ways of man and woman. Boring without a thought or concept of self and constantly doting upon his affection, but Meena was unlike this. She was earthy, mysterious, and a realist who hid her true intellect. An intellect that would daunt even the most astute of English men. She was someone who could challenge him mentally and yet comfort him emotionally.

Meena continued while her husband’s mind swirled with licentious thoughts. “Hannah is the only maidservant the Earl has for I have seen no other. She must know some secret the Earl keeps.” The imaginative gentlemen blinked when he realized what his wife really meant; to associate with the help for information. “Plus the Earl is said to have dealings with the Queen herself. If I was to befriend her and gain her trust…”

“I see,” Harold remarked with a cunning look up his face, “imagine what we stand to gain if we should have knowledge of the Queen’s doings! You truly are clever a woman Mrs. West.“ He then smothered his lady’s skin with kisses pausing only once to speak. “Very well I will ask the Earl come morning,” that being spoken he then flipped his wife on her back, “but until then I should like nothing more than your company all to myself.”

~*~

The next morning after a discussion of when shipments of Darjeeling white tea were to be sent to his Lordship’s estate, Alois Trancy and Harold West found themselves engaged in formidable game of table tennis in the parlor. The fourth match ended with a tie of ten to ten. The older gentlemen took a relaxed stance and briefly examined his paddle. When he was done he with his inspection he spoke to the young master.

“My gracious Earl, I thank you for hospitality and kindness. If I might ask you for a favor. All this busy work over the last week has left me little time to Mrs. West. My wife is quite the social butterfly and she has grown terribly lonely being cooped up in her room with nothing to do. I think it would cheer her spirit to find comfort in the company of another woman. Would it be alright if your maid were to see to my wife’s entertainment until our business is done?” 

Alois looked at the man questioningly; he was surprised that anyone would want to find company with his trollop of a maid. Thinking it over for a second he smiled and tossed a small ball in his hand. “My maid is rather dull and slow witted, but I suppose if your wife has need of her companionship then it would be of no harm. Now then how about another match?”


	9. Dangerous Bedfellows

A robust young gentleman with a well groomed countenance and air of confidence sat in the solitude of a lonely guest room. Harold West read through several documents upon his desk reviewing the contents of each with a thorough eye. He let out a deep sigh for the clever man had been mistaken. When his wife asked for the company of the maid he had thought she meant to use the woman as a handmaiden. Simply have Hannah near her to use for common tasks such as serving tea, helping Meena with her wardrobe, and if possible glean any information the woman had on the Earl. He was utterly taken back when his lovely wife tricked him into getting a separate room so that she and maid could share their chamber instead. “That woman could persuade the sun to set east if she wished,” the business man mused to himself. None the less his wife was contented. 

Walks through the well-tended gardens, personal meals taken on the balcony, the braiding and teasing of each woman’s voluptuous mane, wherever his wife went and whatever she did Meena was sure to have the Hannah follow. The sounds of laughter and whispers from the ladies over afternoon tea could be heard from behind the bedroom door as he passed it on his way to his room. Though the keen businessman found himself a tad bit peeved at the arrangement it did ease his concerns. Harold was sincerely glad to see his darling feeling more chipper as the days came and went. 

Another week had already passed and Meena was well enough to travel. The astute gentlemen rubbed his aching temples looking over a final draft. All that was left was to give the Earl the finalized version of the contract and obtain the signet of Trancy, then Harold Trading’s revenues and clout would soon rival that of the Funtom Company. 

A sly smirk of contempt crossed Mr. West’s face at very thought of the one he so rued. Harold had score to settle with the little upstart who wanted him dead. A personal vendetta he intended to pay back in full and as luck would have it he finally had the means or rather connections to it see through. No doubt the Earl of Trancy did aspire to acquire goods from his company but more importantly they shared a vested interest. The complete utter ruin of Ciel Phantomhive. The memory of his deal with the Alois Trancy begun to play in his mind as if it were happening where he now sat. 

~*~  
The knowledge came as a surprise. The Earl of Trancy rode with his butler to a secluded place within the forest halting at a crystal blue lake. It was there that Alois Trancy expressed his complete distaste for Queen’s watch dog. “With the Phantomhives disposed of I will hold sole favor to the Queen. You too would benefit from my generosity provided you are willing help me,” Alois Trancy smiled his butler assisted him in dismounting. 

“Ciel Phantomhive, I have a rather bad taste in my mouth for the name as well,” Harold lifted his rifle and aimed at a deer drinking from the water.”

“Oh, do tell,” Alois replied taking up his rifle.

Harold’s eyes were solely locked on the prey in front of him. “The Earl tried to have my wife and myself executed. An oriental thug claiming to be his cohort sought to send us or the rats as he so puts it, to the grave.” 

“Then you are of the same mind as me,” Alois said as his barrel now rose pointing across the lake.

“Indeed,” Harold answered. The bullet soared from its chamber and the stag was struck in its hind leg. It fell to the ground and began to squirm in confusion from the pain. Harold smiled and began to reload. “Personal gain is always something to be acquired but you have an exceptionally ardent will in this case. Tell me my Lord, is there a personal reason you hold for wanting Ciel Phantomhive’s death?”

The strong buck managed to get back on its feet and flee inside the woods limping desperately as Harold spoke. Alois kept a watchful eye it but the buck disappeared. His ever present shadow simply pointed into the green foliage.

Alois angrily snapped when his guest questioned his motives, “That matter is of no concern to you! You have only to act as my eyes and ears in London. Be watchful of the Queen’s dog and when the time comes I will see that the killing blow is struck.” 

A second shot rang out through the trees followed by the distant wail of a dying beast. Alois relinquished his rifle to his butler who slung the Sinder – Enfield across his back and then proceeded to help the lad mount. “Forgive my outburst Mr. West the very sound of his name fills me with rage. Please consider my offer.” 

Harold West was amazed by Alois’ shot; the animal must have fled a 100 yards deep into the forest and yet it fell. He soon remembered the Earl was addressing him and turned to the young noble. “Do forgive Lord. I did not mean to offend. Rest assured you and I share a common enemy in the Earl of Phantomhive.”

“Then the matter is settled?” Alois inquired with a grin.

So it was done. Harold would become a spy for The Earl of Trancy and gather information on the insolent trite that had formally disgraced him. Rarely did Mr. West ever see business and pleasure mix so well, but the fortuitous turn of events offered to him was truly the essence sweet revenge.

The opportunistic trader smiled and returned his attention to the letters upon his desk. He diligently filed papers and rewrote entire sections in the finest print. 

When he was done the tired man collapsed back into his seat. His focus drifted elsewhere as the sunlight from the afternoon sky was blocked by cumulus clouds rolling in from the south. The curiosity of his wife’s once odd mood and now new found friendship permeated his mind.

Why did she feel out of sorts when they arrive to the mansion? Why did she lock herself up in the room after they came back from hunting? And why suddenly did she want the maid all to herself, besides the explanation she had already given? 

Perhaps Meena was indeed lonely or still upset from the prior incident in London. ‘It must have been recent scare coupled the long journey, added to it the sudden change in scenery that plagued her all this time,’ he conjectured.

Still he wondered. What exactly did his wife and maid do during the evenings?! Everyday at 10:00 pm sharp he would go to her room and wish his lady a fond good night only to open the door and find her and Hannah in some sultry yet tasteful evening attire. In fact when Harold first happened upon the two dressed in satin night gowns a positively indecent imagining of the risqué kind struck him silent. He subdued his cognitions and kissed his wife good night before he set off to his room.

There was no reason for him to cause any disturbance between himself and Alois Trancy since a deal was struck. At least not so blatantly.

However his dreams were not as chaste for in them he saw shimmering waves of licorice and silver hair sliding across warm bodies like the moon sailing upon midnight sky. Soft hands playfully explored the smooth terrain of toffee and chocolate coated skin, supple lips tenderly caressed one another behind silken veils of gold and purple, he even heard the sounds of his wife making the maid moan with pleasure from her talents. 

Other times it would be the mysterious maid who had taken the dominate role. Exceptionally long necklaces of Akoya and salt water pearls no bigger than small berries were used in place of rope for a type of Japanese sexual bondage. The champagne and cream colored beads were exquisitely laced around Meena’s entire frame and the oh-so humble maid’s façade faded away to relieve devious succubus eagerly seducing his wife. 

Toying with the girl, the busty temptress preceded to lavish her with kisses. Moist velvet flesh slid across trembling body and precious stones alike inducing soft whines and sensuous moans from its captive. When she reached the most sensitive part of his wife the maid then placed a single pearl between her lips. Plump plum painted lips pressed and sweetly kissed Mrs. West’s smooth vulva, until the heated tongue rolled and circle the raspberry sized bead against the Meena’s clitoris. The girl practically cried with ecstasy. He was even invited to share the bed with both ladies instead of just being a passive spectator. Needless to say Harold’s nights were pleasurable.

He would even imagine his old chaps from his alma mater gawking at him whilst walking arm to arm with the two stunning women at his side. Some would eye him with marked jealously while others would cheer him with rowdy hurrahs. His fellow fags would jokingly say, “The old boy still has the Weston spirit in him,” as he casually strode along the street of Whitehall with his exotic wife and bewitching mistress. 

However every morning Harold would waken some-what disappointed and in slight pain. His fantasies were vivid and felt so real but they were only dreams and he supposed the two women were merely indulging innocent girlish whims like sleep overs and dressing up. 

He hadn’t the time to ponder why his head hurt for work beckoned. The ambitious man would simply wash up and choose his attire for the day. When he was freshened and clean shaven he would hasten downstairs with his briefcase to meet his client. As the bedroom door shut behind him a small brown tarantula would crawl out from behind the head board of the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler: For anyone puzzled by the spider at the end of the chapter it's Claude. He's using his demon magics to manipulate Harold's dreams in order to sway him to Alois' cause. I do believe that demon is capable of reading minds. I will say that Claude as familiars, ie other spiders to do his work, its just that particular spider at the bed is our butler.


	10. Aster Vows

The bathroom was lined with exotic perfumes, oils, lotions, and all such luxurious items. The scent of rose and lavender penetrated the steamy wash room air. In the hot water of a large drop in tub Meena West carefully rubbed salve over the bruised and battered backside of Hannah Annafellows. In her former life as a servant Meena was a cook but her mother taught her all sorts of useful skills. An old herbal remedy her mama once used on her when she had cut her finger on a large knife seemed to be working wonders on maid. Though Meena had never seen the medicine work so quickly before.

~*~

She first discovered Hannah’s injures six days ago after asking the maid to try on a few of the fine clothes she herself was offered. Yes Mrs. West told her husband she would gather information from Hannah but her true intent was to see that no more harm came to the poor thing. She would see to that Hannah was treated like an honored guest. It was the least she could do for someone who practically saved her life.   
There were no qualms from the curvaceous woman. She did as she was asked and slowly removed her apron and the rest of her uniform. Meena was busy picking out a suitable dress of a dark green affair. So when she had turned to give the chosen piece to the handmaiden her eyes almost bulged from her head. ‘I thought she stuffed her bra, but their real!’ The maid’s breasts were more than ample as they hung perfectly firm and round on her chest. Meena blushed and turned her head away part from wonder and part from feeling wholly inadequate herself. 

“Is something the matter?” The courteous servant asked.

“No, no, nothing’s wrong. It’s just that I,” Meena turned her face back toward Hannah feeling that she acting rude by not looking the woman in the eyes. “I just think Im rather plain, and flat compared to you,” the swarthy woman honestly replied.

Hannah giggled from her blunt words. Her gentle melodious voice radiated with kindness. Meena felt relieved and began to smile. An air of unspoken silence was broken and somehow she knew would be free to act and speak like her true self around Miss Annafellows. When the laughter finally stopped Meena walked over to the vixen and began to help with the gown. “Well then, I think this dress looks better on you. Let me help you put it on.” That’s when she had seen them. Blackish blue spots and deep scars ran across the maid’s back.

“Hannah,” the shocked woman spoke as she as touched the edges of a long laceration that had yet to heal, “did the Earl do this to you?” Annafellows did not answer. Meena unceremonious grabbed the woman by the arm and lead her to the wash room. There she had maid sit on a small stool. Meena quickly rummaged through the oils atop the sink’s counter she searched for two bottles. Finding them she then took a wash bowl to fill with cool water and set it aside. Hannah watched her in quiet curiosity. 

With urgency the woman rushed out of the room to pull the cable wire leading to a bell system that ran directly to the servant’s quarters. In no time flat Thomspon, Timber, and Canterbury knocked at the door. The heavy wooden entrance quickly opened and Meena gave the three a hard look. The triplets were surprised to say the least. The face that greeted them was seething with contempt and looked as though it wanted to throttle them. “You three bring me five crushed garlic cloves, one chopped onion, mustard oil, lemon juice, turmeric powder, a mortar, and pestle immediately!” Before the pages could bow Meena slammed the door shut in their identical faces.

The worried lady returned to her patient and began to slip lavender and rose oil into the water. When the concoction was done she took a small linen cloth from the counter dipped it the bowl. Taking a deep breath the excited woman calmed herself. After wringing the excess water from the towel she politely asked Hannah for permission to treat her back. The servant gave it. Great care was taken not acerbate the ravaged skin. 

When the triplets returned holding a small basket of the items Meena had requested she greeted them with another seething glare. “What took you so long?!” Without even a thank you she snatched the items from them and shut door in their faces again. 

Outside the door triplets whispered to each other. “It was only a minute,” Thomspon griped. “She reminds me of a witch,” Timber added. “Scary,” Canterbury finished and then all departed 

Inside Meena set to work grinding up the powders, garlic, onion, and added the lemon juice until it became sticky paste. “Hannah this might sting a little but it will help with the bruises and cuts.” Hannah simply nodded and allowed Meena to finish her task. 

~*~

Hannah leaned against the edge of the tub with her arms folded across each other resting her head over them. Slender fingers set to work lathering the long thick strands of unbridled hair as pale as moonlight.

Meena inwardly sighed while gently combing through the soft tendrils. Most likely today would be her last day as a guest and her last day to persuade the maid and to leave this abysmal place forever. Meena contemplated as best she could. She could try to convince her husband to offer Hannah a position as their servant. Tell him the woman held useful for information as an incentive; That she would be a great asset to him but truth be told there was nothing to tell.

Where she came from, what she did before becoming a servant, if she had any associates, and so on. Any personal questions the shrewd Mrs. West asked were met with discretion, vague answers at best, and anything having to do with Earl only received silence and the occasional frown. Whatever secrets she knew, if she had any at all, Hannah Annafellows would not divulge. 

But the days that passed in manor were pleasant for the both. Meena enjoyed the strolls through the garden she had once pretended to be interesting in. Riding horse-back through fields and meadows for sport, cooking delicacies from her homeland to share, and having Hannah read her some poetry to past the time. It was like having a sister, only one that never made fun of you and could drink like a sailor.

The girl was impressed at how well the modest woman could hold her liquor. The maid wouldn’t even slur her words, whereas Meena would be so drunk she’d sing in an incomprehensible language and fall flat on her back when she’d tried to show Hannah how to belly dance. Still Meena cherished time she spent with the gentle and mysterious woman.

Meena began to rinse the lather from Hannah’s hair. Several bubble drifted up from the water dancing like fairies in the air. She stared into the translucent spheres, admiring their beauty and form. Each one was a floating thought, filled with possibilities and dreams wandering through the air in search of place to reside. ‘If Hannah would leave this place maybe we would become good friends.’ Then as quickly as bubbles formed they burst into non-existence leaving only the memory of them behind.

Meena closed her eyes. ‘It’s wishful thinking at a best.’ For whatever reason Hannah did not wish to leave the manor and refused the invitation to depart this loathsome place.

~*~  
Yesterday  
The day was warm and breezy and the air carried the scent of blossoms and sunshine. The garden was the perfect place to have brunch. The exotic girl happily rose from her seat where Hannah and she were enjoying refreshments. Meena wanted to give Hannah a gift and left for a moment to pick a small bouquet of Aster flowers hidden behind some shrubs. 

Rounding a tall hedge that obscured the view of the table on her way back she slowed. The sound of porcelain shattering underneath her feet gave her a start. The remnants of a tea cup were spread across the walkway and between her shoes. Looking up she saw the table where she was having brunch overturned. Alois Trancy stood over Hannah who was sprawled out on the stone pathway and poured hot liquid from a teapot over her head. 

The purple and blue flowers fell from her hands. An image flashed before Meena’s eyes. Her mother was lying on the floor being whipped by Prince Soma’s father. The vision faded and without thinking it through the woman grabbed the boy’s wrist from behind. The young Earl turned bewildered. Who would dare to stop him?

Steely turquoise orbs of bitter hate set themselves on a dark woman with stern grey eyes. “Stop this at once! What has this woman done that makes you hurt her so?” Meena said in a furious tone.

Alois coolly spoke, “How dare you? I am the Earl of Trancy, you would do well to remove hand from me.”

The courageous Meena’s grasp did not wavier, ”I’ll do no such thing! I don’t care who think you are, because you’re nothing more than a horrible child! A foul brat who thinks he can do whatever he pleases!”

Alois said nothing but sneered at the woman enraged at being called a foul brat. 

The resolute girl had seen enough! She would not stand idly by while he tortured Hannah. She raised her arm and was ready to give the disgusting Earl a sound slap across his ugly cheek. Alois looked shocked as an open palm nearly struck him but was stopped. 

The girl lost her grip on Alois’s wrist. “Huh?” Meena muttered as something hindered her. Hannah had intervened by wrapping her arms around her. 

“Forgive me your Highness,” the woman weakly spoke, “It was my fault; I did not show the proper respect to you.”

Meena ears echoed with disbelief. The distressed maid was defending the boy’s cruelty by saying whatever occurred was her fault. 

Unbeknownst to Mrs. West, Hannah was acting as a shield for both her and the Earl. Seconds ago the long dark shadow of Claude Faustus loomed ominously behind Meena. If she had struck the lad there may well have been a bloody corpse scattered across the ground along with the broken tea cups. 

The clicking of Claude’s heels finally registered in her ears. The man calmly strode passed her to his master and then whispered to him. Alois sourly glance at both women in front of him with disdain then smiled mockingly. He slightly tilted his head giving a poor excuse for his action, “ I apologize that you had to see this, Madame West,. As Earl I must discipline my servants. Otherwise they would become lax in their duties.” 

Meena was about to open her mouth and tell him off by saying the only one who needs that type of discipline is you Earl, but Hannah suddenly squeezed her waist. The girl lost her breath in that moment and could not talk. Alois soon waltzed back to his home with his butler in tow. 

~*~  
“Hannah,” Meena arms fell into the water. There was one more question she had to ask. A question she needed an answer to. “Why do you stay here?”

“Does it trouble you so?” The quiet woman with a patient nature asked.

Meena replied, “I should think you would feel more troubled than I. The way the Earl treats you, how can you stand it?”

Hannah raised her head and turn around to gaze at the girl. “Do you truly grieve for me?” The beautiful woman asked then waited to hear her guest’s reply. Meena’s face was down cast as she searched for the right words. 

“Yes. I do. If you stay here that boy…will surely hurt you.” But that was not all she wanted to say. What more was there to say? The girl sighed starting to feel frustrated from her lack of words. 

After a long stillness a signal word finally broke the silence. “Love.”

“Love?” she said confused. A light bulb switched on Meena’s clouded mind. Her hands left the water with a noisy splash and placed themselves on Hannah wet shoulders. Why didn’t she realize it sooner?! He had to be the reason she stayed! Why she endured the Earl’s violence.

“Hannah please!,” the girl pleaded. “Please change your mind. The butler may be handsome but no man is worth such pain! I don’t know what this guy means to you but men are a dime a dozen.“

The air became silent again. The maid only replied, “Do you not love your husband?” 

Meena balked. The question caught her off guard. Of course she had told Harold she loved him but how she really felt at the time was the opposite. She was apathetic towards him and only wanted him so she could escape from Bengal. It was pure logic and sense that drove her decisions in the past. Find a way to get out of your life long bondage, do whatever it takes to attain your freedom. This is what her reasoning led her to believe over the many years of quiet servitude and surrender. 

As of late her reasoning was becoming confused. It was Harold who had protected her in that back alley of London. He put himself at risk for her despite the danger, but love for a man was something the shrewd girl couldn’t fully understand. Meena stared down into the water and saw the sadness and confusion inside herself reflecting clearly on its surface. “I…I care for him..but,” her words trailed off in volume, ”no man is worth that kind of trouble. I will do whatever it takes to keep my freedom. I’ll use whoever I have to and be free.” By the end of her proclamation the sorrowful woman didn’t believe her own words any more. Somehow Harold smiling face kept flashing in her mind but; what else was there to say?

“I am saddened for you.” Hannah’s slender hands cupped both sides of the down trodden girl’s cheeks. Meena tried to hide the tears swelling in her dark eyes but her companion gently lifted her face to meet the tranquil blue sea residing hers. The long suffering and devoted woman slowly pressed her warm and tender lips against the flustered girl’s. 

Her eyelids slowly descended till her vision was no more. Gradually her lips parted as she accepted Hannah’s affection and a gentle melody fluttering in her ears from a dream forgotten delved into her beating heart. 

The lucid tears of a girl’s faltering resolve fell into the water casting small ripples upon the reflection of dear friends.

~*~  
The sun quietly rose over the foggy English moors. A carriage bound for London pulled away from an opulent estate. Inside it a woman with eyes as grey as the stormy day looked back on place she had come to fear, and longed for person she would always miss.


	11. Foul Play

Alois Trancy sat behind his walnut imported desk decorated with ornate gold trimming while looking outside window. After two short weeks his guests were departing. The triplets were below in the courtyard loading the remaining luggage and gifts the Earl bestowed upon his newest business partner. 

Alois felt somewhat doleful at the prospect of being left by himself again. Before their arrival he hadn't realized how long it had actually been since anyone other than a demon entered his home. More than two years past and Claude never once mention inviting people over to the mansion, but it was on the behest of his butler that this Mr. West should be brought here to conduct business. 

The Earl’s eyes narrowed when saw that trollop of a woman who tried to assault him enter the carriage along with her husband. “Claude,” the boy stood and spoke in a sinister tone, “take care of that witch.” 

“Yes, your Highness.” The butler who was there with him bowed then left the Earl’s study.

Minutes later a large black raven flew from an window in the estate. Wrapped around one of its sinewy legs was a small map and a message written in Mandarin that read: “The rats you seek shall be here.” Signed “Anonymous”


	12. Dearly Beloved

On the third day of their departure another wet and dreary fog covered sky awaited Mr. and Mrs. West. The carriage rattled and creaked along the dirt and pebbled strewn trail and the entire journey back home was sure to be a long and monotonous trek. 

“Dear, did anything about Earl Trancy seem strange to you?” Meena uttered out of the blue. 

Harold replied, “Nothing that I can recall dearest, other than you being so secretive with the maid.” His head was lying on his wife’s lap feeling quite comfortable as Meena spoke to him in her soft voice. His proper place in the bosom of his darling wife was rightfully restored and all was splendid from his view.

The somber woman frowned at her husband. The relaxed gentlemen honestly had no misgivings or suspicions about the Earl of Trancy nor any of his servants. Unlike his wife Harold saw nothing of the Earl’s true nature. During the days he was occupied with contracts and orders, in the afternoons the Earl entertained him with sport, and in the evenings nothing but sensual dreams frequented his slumber. Harold smiled while gazing up at his darling. “Unless you count waking up in lonely bed with bothersome headaches as strange, then I suppose that would be a yes.” 

A look of frustration and unease was riddled on his wife’s face as she watched the countryside roll by through the car’s window. She thought to herself ‘How could he be so blind to everything?’ The staff was incredibly small for maintaining such a huge mansion, the silent servants were ever present though always went unnoticed as if they were invisible, the butler who never expressed any emotion at all looked positively dangerous, and above all else the Earl’s behavior was on par with a sociopath.  
.   
“By the way,” Harold added while his wife mused, “Did your handmaiden have anything good to share with you?”

“Unfortunately no. It is as she said. The Earl tells her nothing of his work.” Meena closed her eyes feeling rather worn out.

“Well, there was the possibility of her holding valuable information. It doesn’t matter anymore now that we hold the Earl of Trancy’s favor. The business will grow phenomenally; fame, fortune, wealth, all of it will be ours and that is only the beginning.” Harold balled his hand into a fist pretending to grasp all he had mentioned within. Still his wife’s mood did not change.

“Dear,” the resting gentlemen spoke with concern, “there is nothing to worry about. When we get back to London I can assure you the Earl of Phantomhive will never trouble us again.” 

The tired woman’s eyelids rose and her pupils constricted. Indeed she was troubled but the Earl of Phantomhive was far from her thoughts. Hearing her husband’s talk of him now stirred up the same feelings of dread and foreboding she felt at the Trancy Manor. “What do you mean Harold? How can you know such a thing?” 

Mr. West righted himself and sat properly in his seat. He wanted to ease his wife’s fears and so took her in his arms. “Meena, you are the only one I’ve ever cared for. Your beauty and intelligence astounds me. Of all the women in the whole of Europe none could ever hope to be equal to you. When Ciel Phantomhive tried to kill us, tried take you away from me, I felt powerless.” His grasp became firmer. “After that assassin struck me down I could see her rushing toward you. Reeling from pain I tried to force my body to move, to protect you from her, but I could not get up. I thought I was going to lose you.”

Meena was surprised; Harold’s arms trembled around her small frame. Did she really mean so much to him? The quaking gentlemen took a deep breath and steadied himself. Letting her go he then removed a furled letter from his coat pocket and showed it to his beloved. Two rings, one slightly larger than the other, bore the emblem of a spider. They were slipped around the center of the note the holding the page in place. 

“I have here a letter from our business partner and now benefactor. Upon our return I am to give this directly to his correspondents in London. The Earl of Trancy agents have ties to the Yard. These rings are proof of our allegiance to his Lordship. My dear do you see, we are under his protection now. Not even that mongrel who serves the Queen would dare to bare his teeth us!” 

Meena’s head began to spin. A tumultuous storm of dismay and havoc ran rampant through her mind. First the Earl of Phantomhive, then the creepy manor, the servants, the butler, and now The Earl of Trancy becoming entwined their lives. It was all too much to bare. 

Harold taking no notice of her condition slid one of the tokens off the note and took hold of Meena’s right hand. Smiling he placed the trinket across her finger. “Meena I swear, no harm will ever come to you.” 

Outside behind the driver seat of the rolling carriage a hairy tarantula crawled out into the rainy air. It made its way up the back of a tail coat and then bit into the old and withered nape of the driver. The carriage suddenly veered of the roadside. The occupants of the cabin lurched forward and then were thrown back as the speed of the cab increased. 

“I say. What the hell is going on?!” Mr. West spoke with a startled gruff. He began knocking on the cabin’s window to get the driver’s attention but the carriage jumped as it barreled into the woods. The man’s head hit the roof and he tumble back into to his seat. His wife desperately clung to her door as they were jostled about from the uneven terrain. 

“Dammit man! Stop the car!” Harold shouted. The driver paid no heed, instead the horses made a sharp turn around a large oak. Meena let out a shrill cry as the car collided against the massive tree trunk. Then all was silence and black. 

~*~  
Harold opened his eyes. He shivered as he felt the cold and dank air seeping in from the woods wrap around his body. Shards of glass and pieces of broken wood lay everywhere.  
“Meena?” He tried to shake the grogginess out of his body while he searched for his wife. Rivulets of blood dripped from a large gash in his left brow causing him to shut one eye. “Meena,” he called out again.

Everything around him was covered in thick fog and he could not tell which way his body pointed. He tried to open a door but it would not budge. The very same tree the carriage crashed into was blocking it. Slowly he ambled in the other direction and found to his horror the door on the passenger side was gone, and his wife nowhere to be found.“Meena!” Harold yelled as he limped out of the cabin. The fog outside was thicker and his feet sunk into the wet soil but the panicked gentlemen trudged on.

Mr. West had never been one for prayer, but at this moment he prayed. Prayed with all his strength that he might find the one he loved alive and unharmed. Something must have heard his prayers for he found her lying in a heap several feet from the mangled carriage. Harold scrambled to his knees and lifted her upper body from the earth. Meena was limp and her skin clammy. The man feared the worst. He placed his ear to her mouth and listened intently. The sound of warm air passing through her parted lips was a welcome sign. She was still breathing, just numb from being thrown from the car by the violent impact.

Harold’s breath was heavy and haggard yet their was relief in his lungs. When he tried to lift his wife from the ground Meena whimpered in pain. He dared not to move her for fear of a concussion. “Darling,” he whispered, “can you hear me? Meena wake up!” 

The sound of crunching leaves and footfall wading through the dense foliage of the woods beckoned for his attention. Looking ahead of him the silhouette of an average sized man shrouded behind mist approached. At first Harold thought it was the driver making his way to them, but a second shadow appeared. Soon what he first assumed was a man became the image of two baleful women he had never seen before dressed in skin tight black clothing. In their hands sharp tools forged of metal gleamed. 

The Earl of Phantomhive’s assassins found them. In an instant Harold and reached inside his coat pocket while holding on to his precious wife. 

~*~  
All was black around her. The song of chirping crickets and the occasional croak from a lone frog echoed in the distance. There in a grove of old moss covered oak trees Meena West lay alone and still. Her body refused to move, not even her eyes would part and so in the solemn darkness did she remained. 

The creeping hand of something cold against her chest sent chills up her spine. It lingered and loomed surrounding her entire body, whispering to her in a cold hollow voice, biding her to sleep. How much time in this repose was spent, she could not tell but the specter’s voice ever tried to lull her to dream, its grasp never once waning. Soon sleep eternal would whisk her away. 

Just as the somber lady was about to become lost an indiscernible voice called to her. The voice echoed out through her ears, and again it called her name. Then something warm and full of life took hold of Meena. The familiar aroma of expensive cologne filled her nostrils, and finally the voice of someone she dared not fain love called her darling. If she could move Meena would have cried. 

All too soon a deafening explosion rang forth and tore through the peaceful silence. The specter haunting her mind vanished. Meena slowly opened her eyes. A blur of white and green phased in and out until her vision came into focus. Harold was seated above her holding a .45 colt double action revolver, shooting vehemently into the woods. His teeth visibly clenched and the look in his open eye was a mix of desperation and determination.

~*~  
A small tarantula watched from the roof of the carriage as two deadly shadows skilfully dodged and swerved out of the path of flying ammunition. One held a large curved saber and the other wielded daggers. The woman holding the daggers somersaulted near the carriage as a bullet splintered one of the wooden wheels. 

The arachnid leaped from its perch and landed on the killer’s hand. It sharply bit into exposed flesh causing the woman to flinch. The assailant smacked it away in anger. The eight legged thing flew a short distance and onto the earth beneath. It was quickly crushed under the stiff boot belonging to the assassin.

~*~  
His breath was shallow and his sight was obscured from the thick blanket of white. Round after of round of copper blazed from his pistol. His arm and shoulder jerked back with each pull of the trigger.

He cursed himself. How could he let it happen? Where did they come from? Was the driver a spy for the Earl Phantomhive? None of it mattered now. He had sworn to protect the most precious person in his life and now fate put him to the test. 

The targets were agile and fast. It was difficult to focus on one, because the other would charge once he took his aim of her. His blood soaked hair clung to the side of his cheek and his left eye stung from the scarlet dye. Despite the confusion, despite his disadvantage he managed to drive one of them back into the fog.

Click, click, click, the revolver was out of ammo. ‘Damn it!’ The deadly woman saw her opportunity and swiftly charged the defenceless man with her blade ready for the final slash. 

‘I failed. I failed, I can’t protect you.’ Certain that this would be his last breath the destitute man closed his eyes. ‘Meena please forgive me.’

The saber halted mere inches from his skull. Thud! The woman in front of him fell to her knees. Harold eye parted after he realized he was still breathing. His would be executioner lay dead on the ground. A dagger was lodged in her spine. 

The second assassin appeared from the mist. Her expression was blank and her eyes glazed over as she walked towards him holding the sharp instrument of death in her hand. The battered man laid his wife down and grabbed the saber from the corpse’s hand. He rose to feet and threaten her with sharp growl, “Come any closer and I’ll cut you down!”

The woman ignored him and pressed on. A few more feet she would be in striking range. Seeing this the gentlemen ran towards his foe. The killer simply ducked his first slash. When he swung again she side stepped it and continued forward. 

‘Is she toying with me?’ Harold lunged again causing the killer to jump sideways. ‘Why did she kill her friend?’ It soon dawn upon him. She wasn’t interested in him at all. It was Meena she was after. The man’s brow furled from anger and he gallantly charged the woman again, forcing her further back from his beloved. Just as he cornered against the large hollowed out trunk of a tree she took him by surprised. A powerful roundhouse kicked landed across his jaw making him fall and skid backwards into the grove. He lost the sword as he tumbled but landed softly on something in the bushes. 

Breathing harshly Harold lifted his head to see. The driver’s corpse had broken the fall. His neck was torque at an ungodly angle, most likely from being thrown against a tree. Harold’s eyes widen when he saw a derringer pistol hanging from a holster on the man’s belt. 

~*~  
Everything happened so quickly. Shots being fired, Harold recklessly running towards an attacker, and then disappearing into the woods. The waking world was still hazy. Shaking, Meena tried to get up but her knees gave way causing her to crash down back to the earth. Her hair was completely disheveled, lightly covered with dead leaves. and her clothes were tattered. .

A twig behind her loudly snapped. Meena looked into the fog and hoped that it would be him. Hoped she would see Harold would emerge from the dense foliage with his silly grin, that he would come to rescue her from this dark hole. 

“No!” Meena whimpered.

Another came from the fog instead. A woman with fair skin and long black hair ran at full speed towards her. Again Meena tried to rise only to fall once more. The assassin leaped into the air with both arms raised overhead, both hands clutching the dagger. Meena froze as the fear and glinting blade mesmerized her. 

With all might Harold who was running from woods rammed himself into the side of his wife’s attacker. Both bodies crashed into the ground, toppling over and over along woodland floor until finally they careened to a stop. “Stay away from Meena!” Harold bellowed. 

The woods echoed with a lone gunshot.


	13. Till Death Do Us Part

His legs felt numb and the pain in his chest was excruciating but he forced himself to get up. 　It was difficult to breathe let alone walk; the same life giving air that was barely filling his lungs burned him from within. “Heeaah, huuueeah.” Still he pressed on. 

A dagger was buried hilt deep in the right side of his chest and the wound it made bled profusely.

He watched his own feet take one step at a time for fear the spinning world around him would sweep him of them. There seemed to be an eternity between him and the place he was so desperately trying to find.

His body felt oddly chilled even though he was covered in sweat and his own arms didn’t feel as though they belonged to him. Still he needed to get back to her. 

The spinning world around him ceased to turn and Harold slowly lifted his head. He found the one for whom he had been searching. She was staring back at him. Her face was covered in tears and traces of black dirt tarnished her beautiful complexion. He made a carefree grin at his to wife and tried to limp towards her but he collapsed on his side before he could reach her. 

“Harold!” Meena scrambled to her feet and nearly fell again when she got to him. His pristine suit was sullied with muck and part of his face was stained with blood. She dropped to the ground and her shaking hands carefully turned him on his back. The distraught woman gasped upon seeing the instrument deeply lodged in her husband chest cavity. 

She hastily tore a piece of cloth from her sari and placed his head in her lap. Unsure of herself she attempted to stop his bleeding by putting pressure with cloth around the stab wound. 

“Aaah,” the man grunted. His chest sharply rose and fell as he wheezed.

“Darling please don’t leave me,” the woman wept.

“I promised…to keep you safe,” he stammered trying to maintain the silly smile on his face.

“Don’t talk,” she sniffed. The tears slid down her cheeks and her small fingers trembled from dismay.

“Please smile, I can’t stand to see unhappy,” he held his quivering hand up to his wife’s face to wipe away the soft crystal beads. “Meena, I’m terribly sorry…for getting you involved…I’ve been too foolish.”

Meena gently placed her palm over it. It was cool to the touch and quickly losing its remaining warmth. 

The dying man longingly whispered to his beloved, “Darling, I love you more than anything…remember that.” Unable to keep his eyes open any longer he shut them still smiling as he died in Meena’s warm embrace.

“No…open your eyes!” The woman lamented as his hand slipped from hers and fell back to the Earth. Sobbing in anguish she desperately clung to his lifeless body trying to summon his soul back, “….please…stay with me!” 

~*~  
Once again all was silent in the forest of death. Meena had long since stopped crying and was still kneeling over Harold’s cold body. ‘What did he mean?,’ she thought ‘why was he smiling?’ The words ‘I love you more than anything,’ scathed and ate away her guilty conscience.

“Forgive me,” she whispered to Harold, “I lied. I lied about loving you.” She slowly ran her hands through his golden locks aching to hear him forgive her but It was all for nought, the man was already gone from this world.

Several rays of dusk pierced the foggy haze of the forest. Night was fast approaching but widow didn’t care. Other than being beside her husband nothing else mattered anymore. Meena refused to leave him alone but someone else was there in the grove with her. 

The girl was too distraught to notice of the sound of dead leaves crunching underneath the feet of the deceased. The hit woman rose again and was coming closer to Meena. A walnut sized hole in he left temple was visible and her gaze was empty, yet she was still moving. Dragging the tip of the discarded saber across the wet ground the lifeless husk sauntered ever closer, her steps unevenly swaying from left then to right.

The killer was no more than a foot away from her when Meena saw the long shadow casting black over the ground. Meena looked up seeing the woman’s raised her arm ready to bear down with the sword and strike its target. ‘How could a dead person move?!’ Nothing made sense anymore but if this was to be her punishment for her deception and all her lies ‘so be it.’ Meena closed her eyes. 

The sword began its descent and the sickening noises of bones snapping and blood splattering across the earth resonated across the empty air. 

~*~  
Meena cringed but no pain came to her. Time passed and she parted her eyelids to allow the light of the dusk enter. Towering over her was something the bereaved lady never saw before. A woman with pupils resembling those of a snake, whose iris’ glimmered and gleamed with fuchsia encircled in ring of tainted scarlet stood before Meena. Her garment was pure black and her bosom was stained with fresh blood. Long strands of silver hair cascaded over her shoulders and barbaric marking adorned her cheeks and arms. In her grip she held the crushed wrist of the attacker and her other claw punctured the body. 

“Kali?” Meena mouthed with her eyes fixed on the flesh and blood incarnation of a fierce goddess. 

Removing her hand from the corpse the deity left a large gaping hole in the place where the killer’s heart should have been. Unsympathetically the goddess tossed the carcass aside with one hand leaving the mangled thing to rot where it landed.

Meena quivered in fear. She would have prostrated herself before a divine being but was too scared to budge. 

“Why do you cry?” A familiar but stony voice uttered.

Meena gazed in awe and confusion, “Hannah?” Though she was the spitting image of maid, the woman standing over her was not the same gentle spirit she had become familiar with, nor did she seem like the kind hearted companion Meena dearly cherished. Yet it whom else could it have been? Her words were lost.

“Is this not what you wished for?” Hannah inquired again.

“I,” Meena shook her head in tears, “I don’t understand!”

Hannah only looked at Meena’s husband and spoke to the frightened woman in a softer tone, “If you do not love him then why do you cry? Is he worthy of such pain?” 

The chains of melancholy that closely guarded her heart broke and her eyes widened when she realized the lucidity in Hannah’s voice. All time she spent dreaming of being free, of elevating herself from slave to aristocrat meant nothing. Blinded by her own ambition she lost the most precious thing she had, the man who loved and cherished her above all else. Sinking into the growing regret in the pit of stomach Meena answered with her eyes doused in tears, “Yes…he is.” 

Nothing more needed to be said. 

Hannah took hold of the Meena’s hand. Her elegant black fingers and nails slid the engraved ring off its host’s finger. The trinket easily shattered between demoness’ index finger and thumb. 

She knelt next to Meena and cupped the girl’s face with blood drench hands. “Yet again I grieve for you,” she whispered. Meena didn’t know what to do but the demonic eyes so near her mesmerized and strongly pulled her soul into them, as if they could sallow her whole. Closing the space between them Hannah kissed the girl.

Meena eye’s remained open, the lips pressing against her own lacked the same tenderness as before, instead they felt cruel and distance. The bindi on her forehead began to glow and change. The impression of a small black rose appeared then in light blue aura coming from light faded away. In time the kiss was broken. 

 

Before rising Hannah took Harold’s wedding ring off his finger and cut a lock of hair from his head with her claw. She wrapped the golden strands around the ring, rose, and spoke, “I have placed my mark upon you. Danger shall not come to you but your freedom is no more.” 

A trotting horse with a saddle upon its back entered the grove and neighed. It neared Hannah and obediently waited while swishing its course tail back and forth. The she-devil took hold of its reigns and gave it to Meena.

“Before you leave this place take the briefcase from carriage and the letter from there as well. Keep the other ring with you but do not wear it on your hand. Follow the instructions within the letter and see to it that your husband’s work is done. If you wish to take his body do so, but you must not bury him in London. Do not announce his death so quickly. When you have done all that is required of you this shall be returned.” Hannah held Harold’s wedding ring to the fading light.

“Afterwards discard the Earl’s token and do not stay within in London. Go where you wish, but never return there or here for that matter. Do you understand?” 

Meena was still bewildered but simply nodded her head.

“This one shall take you to the nearest road; follow it until you’ve reached a town. Do not delay here much longer. The wolves are sure to be hungry.” Hannah turned to leave but Meena called out to her.

“Wait!” she exclaimed too hesitant to say anything else. “Hanna, who, what are you? Please tell me that much at least.”

The woman strode forward and disappeared into the woods. Meena eyes widen when she heard Hannah’s voice for the last time.

“Demon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hannah has not made a contract with Meena. The mark on her forehead is simply a spell for protection as well marking one's property in demon terms.


	14. Epilogue

On the morning of September 16, 1888 two envelopes and a small parcel were delivered by a special courier from London, England to an address Newcastle. The items were received by the Earl’s servants and given to the head butler for review.

~*~  
Sleek and predatory eyes carefully scan the outside of the envelope.

Sir Earl Trancy  
Trancy Estate  
Blakelaw and North Fenham  
Newcastle  
England

The waxen seal is broken and a letter written on parchment is removed.

“Sir Earl Trancy, September 03, 1888  
To my gracious benefactor and associate, as per the agreement stated in my contract to your Lordship, a shipment 175 crates each weighing 100 pounds, whose contents contain the following: Darjeeling Tea, Darjeeling White Tea, Nilgiri, Assam, is currently be delivered to your various estates and companies throughout the whole of France and Spain.

As requested a special shipment of my company’s finest grade of, New Moon Drop Tea, has been sent to your personal estate in Newcastle. I trust you shall find everything to your liking.

I am honored by your patronage to Harold Trading and look forward to our continued partnership.

Sincerely,  
Harold J. West”

Hands clothed with white gloves set the first of the two letters aside and proceed to open the second.

 

“Sir Earl Trancy, September 03, 1888  
Your Lordship I regret to inform you that in the weeks that followed my return to London, I developed a severe case of typhoid. The fever has long since passed, but not without taking its toll upon my body. I am afraid it has left me with a weakened constitution. Hence forth I am no longer able to travel your estate and can only conduct business via my proxies. “

Sincerely,  
Harold J. West”

 

The gentleman simply adjusts his glasses then places a blank portion of the page before the flames of a gilded candelabra sitting on his chic walnut work desk. The fine lines of a hidden message began to appear on the aged paper.

 

“Concerning the matter of Ciel Phantomhive. I have met with your agents in London and informed them of my fealty to your Lordship. As per your instructions I have hired several more men whose characters are without question to keep the Earl under constant surveillance and not alert him to our presence in London.

Though my illness has left me crippled I will continue my duties to you and keep an ever watchful eye over The Earl of Phantomhive. Any mysterious doings or actions regarding the Earl shall be noted and sent via a secret courier to you at once.

Rest assured Earl, the Queen’s mongrel is well known for his cruelness and insolence. He is sure to commit an atrocity that even her Majesty will not tolerate. When that time comes you will be able to strike as you see fit.

I am Sir, Your ever watchful eyes and ears,  
Harold J. West” 

Faustus places the letters back in their envelopes and set them down. Resting his elbows on the desk he then crosses his hands together. It is evening and his master is fast asleep in his bed. There is no need to wake him at this hour. The butler’s wolf-like gaze drifts over the exterior of two small square tins no bigger than a palm. The signs of a sly smirk are hidden behind his coupled fingers. The deception is not lost on him but the turn of events his piques curiosity. 

“Hannah,” he calls to his fellow fiend of darkness with a low serpent-like voice. The door to the study opens shortly after and the clever demoness enters dressed in her humble servant’s attire. She closes the door behind her and approaches his desk. Her hands are folded in front of her. Her expression is neutral but behind her placid countenance a tone of deception lurks. A slight bow is given and then she patiently waits for Claude to speak.

“No doubt you are aware of why you are summoned,” he speaks in a composed manner, “you were to see to Mr. West’s safe return were you not? Though it seems this is not the case.“ 

“The circumstances have changed, but the course goes as follows.” Hannah replies in her soft voice. “Mr. West is deceased but his wife has done what was expected of him. Surely there is no trouble.” 

Silence ensues and nothing but the soft howl of evening wind outside the mansion can be heard. The candle flames slowly flicker in the dimmed quarters as the uneasy truce between the pair burns in the same manner.

“That human, she was rather fond of you. Tell me, did you intend make a contract with her?” Claude inquires.

Hannah’s soft voice is now accompanied by a subtle seductive lure, “I was merely doing as the master bade me to do. See to our guest’s comfort and nothing more.”

The butler’s unnatural hearing does not mistake the maid’s tone for temptation or lust. He fully understands the impertinence in her voice and continues his inquiry. “Yet you seemed attached to her nonetheless. In the garden did you not protect her? Curious that a demon would do so such a thing.”

She discerningly counters the spider devil in their little game of wit, “My only thought was of keeping the Earl unharmed. As a maid this is only to be expected of me is it not?” 

Uncrossing his hands the dark butler gracefully leaves his chair and walks past his work desk dragging an index finger across the mirror like sheen of the polished surface. Stopping an intimate distance in the darkened quarters he casually slides that same digit underneath Hannah’s chin and tilts her head upwards so she can see his callous stare. “Then I suppose it would not trouble you at all to learn that she will be disposed of once her usefulness is over.” 

Claude smirks when Hannah’s arrogance instantly changes into a hateful glare. A single finger becomes two and begin to caresses the roused woman’s cheeks. Leaning in closer to Hannah he tilts his head downward. With his lips only a hairs breadth from her ear he whispers, “Master's orders are absolute. It is only expected that a butler perform the task given to him. ” 

His other hand slides down the maid’s torso and then curves of her back. In one swift movement the ribbon to Hannah apron is undone. The devil’s voice is low and aroused ”A tool that has no more use is only to be discarded.”

Hannah silently curses Claude but she is not troubled by his threat nor his insults. Inwardly she smirks. The game they play has but one outcome and she knows the true victory will be hers. 

The candles flames burn long into the night. 

~*~  
Meena was mistaken. Hannah Annafellows did not desire the infatuation of men and women. No, the love she feels is of a different nature. The pure devotion of a little child sleeping inside her. This child yearned only for a boy with cream colored hair and eyes as cold and beautiful as ice. 

~*~  
March 23, 1889

Meena stood on the platform of a busy train station in the early hours of the morning. Beside her was a medium sized piece of luggage. Her train would arrive in ten minutes; She would broad it and ride it to the port in Dover on the Kent coast, from there she would cross the Straight of Dover and enter France. Then take the East Indian Railway back to Bengal for a short stop and leave to new lands.

She thought back to the days before. The road had led her to Branford where she informed the local police department of the attack on her way to London. Only the account of two thieves who were shot down by her husband before meeting his untimely death was recorded. His body had been wrapped with a black sari and taken with her to the town. A phone call was made and another carriage from her husband’s company was dispatched. A private funeral was held 2 weeks later and his body was buried in Lancaster at the burial sight of his grandfather and grandmother. No mention of it was ever made public. Only the closest of Harold’s kin was informed in the weeks that followed her return home. 

The widowed woman did as she was instructed; She presented the ring and letter to Trancy’s correspondents in London. Eventually the executer of Mr.West’s estate read Harold’s will. Her husband left everything he owned to Meena. At first his family tried to contest the will, claiming that she was only his mistress, but the Earl’s agents made sure she received all that was bequeathed to her. A few false allegations of bribery and blackmail could change anyone’s mind especially went it could lead to scandal and financial ruin. If that failed a death threat could easily subdue even the most influential of people but the family was wise enough to understand who they were dealing with. His relatives never bothered her again.

During her time in London Meena was like a ghost to any she knew before. Prince Soma and Agni did not recognize her at all. One afternoon she had bumped into him during a festival. The young man only apologized for his carelessness and went on his way with his servant closely at his side. Even the oriental thug and his lady who first threatened her life took no notice of her when she passed them directly on Regent Street. 

As an added measure of anonymity Meena West changed her identity, and it was reported that a new owner by the name of Cordelia J. Young took charge of Harold Trading. Lady Cordelia never made any public appearances. She was thought to be a person who valued her privacy; it mattered little for she was a gifted entrepreneur and her deceased husband’s company flourished in the months that followed. 

Even with all her newly acquired wealth and status Meena was now a prisoner in the city that was once her freedom. Perpetually in the service of Alois Trancy, the Earl who caused her husband’s demise. Despite his treachery she kept an ever watchful eye on Ciel Phantomhive. 

Months later a small package arrived with no return address to her home. Inside it was a cage with a small rodent. The little white mouse dug through a heap of wood shavings in the corner and out popped a golden ring. The clever little beast skillfully rolled it out of cage where Meena caught it in her hand. Attached to it was a golden lock of hair. 

In the first days of March Harold’s Trading was sold to a new owner, the majority of the asset’s Meena held in England were liquidated, and her husband’s estate in London was converted into an orphanage. Meena entrusted its care to a most dear friend, a young lady of virtue and honesty who worked as secretary to her. With a generous fund supplied each year the orphanage would became a loving home for abandon children for decades to come. 

The train pulled into the station and its billowing black clouds of smoke wafted into the morning sky. 

“Madame, shall I help you with your bags?” A train attendant no older fifteen wearing his uniform stood next to her. He was tall for his age but lanky.

“Why yes,” Meena answered back. She showed him her ticket and then the young man gathered the leather carryon and escorted the lady to the proper cabin. The lad had never really seen an Indian woman before and found the lady’s long hair and dark skin rather striking. He blushed when she thanked him for his help. The woman then gave him one pound and he graciously accepted her generosity. “Thank you kindly, Madame.” 

As he was about to leave but a tiny mouse scurried out of a small compartment on the side of Meena’s luggage where upon it crawled down from the overhead self and onto a comfortable seat cushion. The attendant gawked and spoke earnestly, “Madame, do not be alarmed. There is a rodent in your seat.” 

Meena turned and glanced at the little thing who was busy making a cozy bed out of a red cushion. “Oh, never mind that, he is my travelling companion,” she smiled to the lad.

He furrowed his brow. “If I might ask, why do you travel with a mouse?”

“It was a gift from a dear friend,” she replied. “It’s quite the intelligent one.”

“Really?” he answered as he scratched the back of his head. 

“Indeed. Would like to shake his hand?” 

He found it highly absurd but the smiling woman’s countenance was genuine enough. So he held out his finger and the little creature stood on its hind legs. With both paws it mimicked a handshake it. The attendant smiled. When he removed his digit the little thing winked at him and curled up in its cushion. Meena giggled.

Perhaps foreigners kept mice as pets he thought. “Um, where are you and your, travelling companion, heading?” he asked wondering where a lady and a mouse might go. 

She cheerfully replied, “Im going to back to India to retrieve my mother, and from there who knows.”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mouse is one of Hannah's familiars because Hannah's animal form is a bat. A bat is considered a winged rodent. Being a familiar she has endowed the little thing with long life and intelligence. Its able to understand human speech, read various languages, and communicate with Meena. His name is Ellis by the way and he doesnt like Claude at all for touching his master inappropriately. I like to think he would be a cute little pet for Luka if the kid was still alive.


End file.
